


Give and Take

by mustachio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Other, Pegging, Praise Kink, Smut, Sub Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: Love is all about give and take.Sometimes, you're the one giving and Loki is the one taking.orThe one in which Loki gets pegged.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 227





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> I had a desire, so I filled it. Also, I'm posting this without proofreading lest I chicken out. So apologies for any mistakes.

"You good?"

"Never."

"Okay, but do you _feel_ good?"

Loki's tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. He wiggles his hips a little. A jolt runs up his spine and causes his fingers to tighten on your thighs. It is new and odd to be filled this way. You lean down to press a kiss against his chest, just above his heart.

"Lokes? Do you feel good?" You ask again.

" _Yes_ ," teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut again, Loki's response comes out in a hiss. "Give me a moment."

"I'll give you as many moments as you need, love."

"Just one should suffice," he laughs. The sound is breathy, torn between amusement and desperation. It's a good sound. "Move now, please."

You're all too happy to comply with that request. Carefully, you thrust lightly into him, mindful that he may still need some getting used to the size of your strap on. It is not a small thing and you think, maybe, it would have been better to start with something with a little less girth. But Loki is nothing if not stubborn and prideful and he would hear nothing of the idea of starting smaller. You shift on your knees. You thrust into him again, harder this time. His mouth falls open, breathes coming in ragged pants already. 

"Still good?" You ask.

"Fuck me properly," he demands in response.

You run a fingernail lightly up his torso. The muscles of his abdomen twitch under your touch. Another breathy laugh escapes him. 

"Ah, ah, ah," you say. "Good boys don't demand things."

His eyes snap open at that, his voice as imperious as it can be under the circumstances when he says,

"I am _never_ \- Oh!" His gaze unfocuses with your next thrust. Fingers twine together over his head, his squeezing yours as he tries to find his hold on the world around him despite the sensations within him.

"You're so beautiful like this," you whisper into his ear. You nibble on the lobe, enough to hurt. "My beautiful god."

The world would never look at the fearsome Loki Laufeyson the same way again if they heard the whine he lets out at your words. But the world will never hear that sound. It's a sound meant for you, no one else.

"My love," he groans. " _Please._ "

Please? Oh, he must be desperate. Loki saying please is practically unheard of.

You lay against him, chest to chest, and press your mouth to his in a soft kiss. You thrust into him again, harder now, ready to give him what he wants now that it seems he's willing to be good for you. He raises his hips to meet yours, a silent plea for _more more more_.

"Remember to be good- I _know_ , you're never good- just this once and tell me if it's too much." 

Instead of arguing, Loki nods. It's a vigorous, half mad sort of nod. He's eager for more, for everything. He'll agree to be good for you (only you, only ever you) if you would just give him what he wants. Your answering grin is sharp, like his tongue, like the bite of your teeth on his neck, like the jolt of pleasure that runs through him at your warning thrust. And then Loki forgets what _soft_ even means. 

Your movements are rough, sloppy, and fierce. Each one causes the strap on to reach deeper and deeper inside of him, touching places he never knew he needed touched before. His hands leave yours to claw and grasp at anything they can find. Eventually he wraps then around you, clinging so tightly you can barely move enough to continue thrusting, but you manage. You cup his cheek with one hand, raising his head so you can kiss him.

The kiss is sloppy. His nose smushed against your cheek bone. Your teeth knock against his. Both of you move too erratically for your lips to stay together. They slip to cheeks and chins and eyes until neither of you have an inch on your faces that has been left unkissed. He lifts his hips to meet yours and you press into him hard as you can, wanting, craving, needing to be one with him. 

You keep your eyes open through it all. Loki truly is beautiful. His skin glistens with sweat, something that would repulse you on anyone else, even though on him you find it mesmerizing. His curls are wild around his face. Some have fallen into his eyes, others splayed on the pillow giving him a dark halo. His lips are swollen, bright red, and form silent words with each breath he's able to drag from his lungs.

_Please, yes, more, harder, deeper, mine, mine, mine._

But some of the words are half formed spells; incantations meant to do little more than bring his magic bubbling to the surface to keep him grounded, lest he gets washed away by the pleasure, never to find you again. You call your magic, too, and let it spread over him, meeting his own power, and tying the two of you together in just one more way.

The hand that had been on his cheek moves down, scratching at his chest and abdomen until it reaches his cock. You squeeze it once. He keeps in response, eyes flying open at this new sensation.

 _Too much_ , he almost says, but he clenches his teeth and doesn't let the words escape. _Not enough_ , he argues back to himself. Not enough, never enough, he needs more, so much more, needs to feel as though the places where he ends and you begin are the same, needs to feel that you are one, if not in body and mind, then in soul. 

You grasp his cock firmly, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist while continuing to thrust into him and he _howls_. Magic bursts from the two of you knocking the furniture and everything on it this way and that, but neither of you pay that much mind. 

_Not enough_ , you think, and thrust into him as hard as you can, as quick as you can, trying to find what you need from your end of the strap on. It's slick with your fluids, almost slips out of place once or twice, but it's _not enough not enough not enough it's not Loki it's not enough._ You cry out in frustration. Your movements become more erratic, your pace punishing. Loki chants your name like a prayer, like you're the god, and he the lowly human lucky enough to be loved by a deity. 

His nails bite into your back, his teeth into your shoulder. Each thrust reaches deeper into him than he could have imagined, feels better than he would have dreamed. He loves you for this. He loves you for so much more, but right here, right now he loves you for this, for giving this to him. Emotion builds in his throat and makes its way to his eyes where it manifests as tears. He turns his face to your cheek, nuzzling to hide the sentiment threatening to escape him.

"You're doing so well for me," you say, putting aside your own frustration for the moment to focus on him and what he needs. "I love you so much, Loki, so much. I'll give you whatever you want, just say the word. What do you want, my beautiful, darling god?"

"Everything," he rasps out.

So you give him everything you can. You give him all your strength and speed with your thrusts, all your love with your words, all your happiness and thankfulness and desperation and everything else you have to offer with whatever you have to offer it to him with. You promised to give him what he wants and you're going to keep that promise.

He comes with a gasp, your name on his lips a moment later. The stickiness of it gets all over your hand and both your stomachs, but you don't mind. You gently take your hand from his cock to run your fingers in soothing circles across his torso, uncaring of the fact that you're making the mess worse. Your adjust other hand, which had been supporting your weight above him, so that it can do both that job and play with his hair. You move slowly to work the strap on out of him. He's gone boneless beneath you and you have no desire to jostle or overstimulate him.

"You good, Lokes?" You ask once more.

He grins, "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm never good."

But his grin fades as he cracks open one eye to gaze critically at you.

"You did not come," he says.

You shrug, "Tonight was for you. I'm fine."

You're about to get out of the bed to get something to clean the two of you off, but before you have much time to process what's happening, you suddenly find yourself pinned below him. The strap on is somewhere else, apparently magicked away. 

"That just won't do," he says, moving down the length of your body. "That won't do at all."

His grin is predatory. It's all teeth and hunger and devious intent. He licks his lips as he reaches the juncture of your thighs. 

"Be prepared, my love. You've given me a gift I'm quite keen to repay and I intend to be _very very_ thorough."


End file.
